Bitter Turned Beautiful
by SweetDulcinea
Summary: Loss left Bella jaded & detached, but when she sees a face from the past, she believes it's all changing for the better. FGB Story for socact - AH


**A/N: Many thanks go to the wonderful & talented socact for donating to the November Fandom Gives Back auction. This is for her =) I also owe a great deal of gratitude to Chele681 for beta magic & to Vi0lentSerenity (who was my amazing NMTB content beta) for kicking this story's ass! I adore all of you!**

**All recognizable characters, products, or songs are property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is mine. And socact's! Any religious references are brief & used to show the beliefs of a character in their particular circumstance; your beliefs are your own choice.**

**I do something a little...different here to enhance the story. I hope you all "get it."**

**

* * *

**

Loss left her jaded, even as a young girl.

"It's not fair! It's not fair!" she would repeat, wailing and sobbing whenever she thought of the mother she had lost when she was only seven years old. When she received good marks in school or scored the winning point in a recess game, she would wish to share her accomplishment with the one person who could no longer be there to smile and bake her congratulatory cookies. Worse yet were the scraped knees or hurt feelings she longed to have soothed by the sweet kiss and loving arms of her mommy, but those gestures became distant memories. It heightened her disdain for what life had dealt her, and being so young, her innocent mind (and heart) did not know how to heal itself.

"No, it is not," her father would say as he rocked her in his arms. "The good Lord never promised us that life would be fair, but he did say that if we love and trust him, we will always be cared for. We can't ever forget that we are loved, even when we're hurting."

He was a good father who she loved dearly, and he did everything he could to protect his beautiful little girl, but no amount of love could bring back the wife and mother they had both lost.

That year, he took her to the soup kitchen in the basement of a local church on Christmas Eve. Together, they served dinner, cleaned up tables, and swept floors. She didn't comprehend the purpose of their goodwill immediately, but he took care to explain it in a way her young mind could understand.

"We're serving these people, just like Jesus taught us to serve," her father would say.

He wanted to show her that, even though they had lost Mother, they had many things that others did not – a home, his job, and one another.

She may not have understood income or the difficulty of providing for a family and paying a mortgage, but when she looked into the faces of other children, her father's message clicked. Comparing their shabby clothes and eagerness to devour a plate of food to her life, she recognized the importance of being grateful for everything she still had with her father.

Every year, they returned to the soup kitchen on Christmas Eve and served. It was something special that they shared. Their private tradition and it's meaning began to mend the fissures in her heart, little by little.

On the fourth year, however, tragedy struck.

While driving home from their annual volunteering, a logging truck skidded across an icy road, careening into the driver's side of her father's police cruiser. He was killed on impact.

//B.T.B.\\

Nothing and no one could undo the damage of her misfortune, but she was one of the lucky ones because not all children who were placed in the system were blessed with such kind and loving foster parents as she had. Their lovely daughter with long blond hair and longer legs was already away at college, so they opened their home, hoping to help her heal.

She was given her own bedroom with lavender walls and white furniture. It was bigger than any room in the home she shared with her parents, and the bed was bigger and softer than her old bed, but it was also foreign and strange. The privilege with this affluent family could never change her past or make up for what she truly desired. She wanted her parents back, and she would much rather live in the small, old house with the chipping yellow cupboards than this pristine home in an unfamiliar new city if it meant she could have _her_ family.

Life does not work that way, though. She appreciated her foster family and even grew to care for them, but not the way one loves their true family. They were good to her, and in turn, she followed their rules, did her chores, and worked hard in school.

When holidays would come to pass, they would watch her turn into herself, reclusive and bitter. Through the year, she could manage - be polite and well-mannered - but on those special occasions, she was another person entirely; a young girl who hid from the world, unwilling to talk unless it was an angry outburst at those around her. She resented the days just for occurring, and while other children laughed and celebrated, she grasped her bitterness with fettered fingers of hate. Any family function that took place would be attended begrudgingly, and as soon as she could flee, she would. She had no use for days that centered upon fun and happiness with the people you cared for the most. It broke the hearts of her foster parents because, beneath the damaged exterior she displayed, they knew a sweet, kind-hearted girl existed, and they wanted nothing more than to free her from the chains that bound her broken heart.

Even the superficial days like Halloween made her lock herself up in the large bedroom with the pristine white bed that never really felt as though it was _hers_. They were the longest days of the year, in her mind, and she was grateful when they were over. Thanksgiving came and went, accompanied by many tears as the anniversary of her father's death approached, and the entire month of December was awful. No matter what her foster parents did, it was of no use. Their support and loving gestures could not cheer her, which made them feel guilty and useless.

She dreaded Christmas more than anything else for obvious reasons. On Christmas Eve, she sat, hollow and quiet, on the living room sofa as the family exchanged a traditional single gift before dinner together. The beautiful daughter and her charming, dimpled boyfriend with the dark, curly hair were even there, adding more happiness to the dynamic. Together, they were all smiles and brightness while she curled into a ball on a corner of the couch, a lonely dark shadow. Their delight burned her, and though they kindly sought her participation, she would not give. What they did not understand was that she was incapable of focusing on their festivities that evening. To do so would have been a betrayal; she had convinced herself that she _needed_ to hurt so that she would never forget.

Her mind drifted back to a different town, in the familiar church basement with her father, surrounded by the heavy scents of Christmas dinner that would bring a little cheer to those less fortunate. She suddenly felt an odd connection to those people, not because she was in want of anything, but because her life lacked the type of fortune she desired.

That night, she hardly slept. This was the night that her father had been stolen from her life one year ago, and there had been three hundred sixty-five times that she wished she had left this world with him. If he had been there, they would have gone to the soup kitchen in their own hometown, not this strange city where she now lived, and they would have been happy to have one another. Instead, she intruded on some other family's traditions, having forced herself not to bawl through the celebration, and she did not take part in the service activities she had done for several years prior. She should have been _there_ on Christmas Eve, giving to others as her father had taught her instead of at "home" receiving lavish gifts she didn't want in the first place.

When morning came, guilt loomed. Nagging in her mind was an increasingly persistent voice telling her to make up for breaking tradition. She endured breakfast with her foster family and the gift exchange they all did together, but the feeling continued. Finally, she gave in to her conscience and approached her guardians.

"My dad and I used to volunteer together every year on Christmas Eve. Is there place you can take me today to do that?"

The couple was so ecstatic that the girl had requested to do something, let alone mentioned her father, that they immediately made a few phone calls and found a shelter where she could help serve Christmas dinner.

They wanted to make a family event out of it, eager to connect with the girl in any way she would allow, but she insisted that she go alone. This was hers, and for this year, at least, she needed it to remain that way while she attempted to make peace with the absence of her father. "Maybe another time?" she told them, and they respectfully accepted her choice.

At the shelter, she listened to the instructions given by the lead volunteer as she pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail. Since she was a late arrival, the woman asked her to help with clean up as people finished the meal.

As she worked, she tried to remember happy times with her father, as well as her mother. This had been her tradition with her late father, which made doing it alone much more bitter than sweet, but her heart was there to honor him. The day progressed, and a variety of people passed through the shelter doors. Many were alone and looked ragged and unkempt, but she did not think any less of them for their appearance. Everyone did the best they could manage. It was the families, especially those with children, who caught her attention the most.

Late in the day, one child in particular intrigued her. He appeared to be about her age, and he had the oddest hair. It was a brownish color that was tinged with a sort of metallic red hue, almost as though the long, messy strands had been dipped in liquid bronze. She found that she couldn't keep her eyes off him, not just because of his peculiar hair, but due to the brilliant smile that lit his face the entire day.

She examined the boy carefully. His mother was alone, and she assumed that the absent father had probably been gone from their lives for a very long time. The boy was the youngest of four children, and that fact was confirmed by the worn condition of his clothes. While each member of the family wore some semblance of dress clothes, the youngest boy's were obvious hand-me-downs from his three older brothers. The knees and cuffs of his khaki pants were tinged with stains, and the blue button down shirt he wore did not match his outdated tie. Nevertheless, she admired the mother for attempting to dress her sons in a respectable manner for the holiday.

This family was clearly hard up financially, and she wondered if they had their own home or if they lived at the shelter. Despite their circumstances, they had a pleasant air about them as the boys rough-housed each other and the mother carried on conversation with several other women, and none seemed more at ease than the spiky-haired boy. She found it difficult to keep from staring at him while she did her part bussing tables and delivering dirty dishes to the crew in the kitchen.

When the meal ended, people gathered on the end of the great multi-purpose room. It appeared that they were preparing for something. Curious, she watched the group of shelter residents and visitors as she helped fold tables and chairs. After a while, the chatter settled and she saw the boy take a seat at the old, chipping upright piano and begin to play. The upbeat Christmas tunes were familiar to her, and she was surprised to find herself humming along.

When the boy began to sing, she gasped. Not only were his appearance and boyish good looks captivating, his voice sounded like that of an angel…at least what she imagined an angel would sound like. He was quickly drowned out as others began to sing along, but the lovely voice echoed in her mind. She strained to hear him through the other carolers, sometimes believing that she caught his voice for a moment, but it never lasted.

Song upon song was played, and with each one, the spirits of all those there, including the volunteers, were lifted. She didn't know how long he went on, but when he stopped, she assumed it was due to tired fingers. She couldn't help but notice how long and narrow those fingers happened to be; perfect for a piano player.

He was patted on the back and praised for his performance and song leading, and she felt the urge to join the throng of admirers. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say or do, though. Perhaps simply say hello. Perhaps see his bright, olive green eyes up close. A small, embarrassed part of her wanted to hear her name on his lips. His smile had not faded once the entire time, as though it was a permanent fixture on his face. She longed to understand what made him so joyous, for she had not felt that way in a very long time.

Her opportunity to speak to him never came to fruition. Just when she thought she had steeled herself with the nerves to approach him, still unsure of what she would say, her foster parents arrived to take her home. They beamed at her, obviously proud of her service that day, and she couldn't help but smile back. It seemed that the boy's attitude was contagious because for the first time ever, she _wanted_ to share with them about her day. They happily enveloped her in a loving hug and began asking questions about how everything had gone. As they guided her outside, she turned her head behind her for one fleeting look at the beautiful boy. Her stomach fluttered with a million butterflies when their eyes locked. The little wings flapped faster when the corner of his mouth tugged up into a brilliant crooked grin, and all the poor little butterflies exploded when he lifted his hand to wave goodbye to her. Cheeks aflame, she returned her gaze to the exit and left with her foster parents.

//B.T.B.\\

Each year, she returned to the shelter on Christmas Eve to volunteer and serve. She never saw the boy or his family again, but the impression he had made on her remained. Her mind refused to let go of the memory of him, and every time she visited the shelter, his presence surrounded her somehow. Despite his obvious lack of material extravagances and a rough lifestyle for his family, he possessed a sort of happiness that came from within. She wondered how someone who had been dealt such a thorny hand in life could be so joyous, especially when she could not find happiness herself. Not without her father. Not without her mother. It did not make sense in her mind, especially since she had a wonderful foster family, but she was still constantly distraught.

Volunteering kept the spirit of her parents alive in her heart, so she eventually expanded her service hours beyond the obligatory one night a year. For most people, the frequency of such visits would teach them to treasure what they were blessed with, but it wasn't that way for her. It wasn't as though she was ungrateful for her fortune after her parents passed. The truth was, she found herself volunteering for selfish reasons. The first, of course, was because of her father. The second reason was a sort of penance. She hated that she struggled to smile when there was a warm home and warmer people waiting for her each day. It made her feel guilty and foolish.

Time passed, and she graduated from high school. Her foster parents were proud and wanted to fund her college education, but she refused their offer. Their generosity over the years had been too much, and she had nothing to give them in return. Paying for her schooling when she wasn't even their real child made little sense to her. She assumed they would be better off if she removed herself from their lives once she turned eighteen. She loved them very much, in her own way, but she was done taking.

She would still go to community college, though. Her father's life insurance was now available to her as a legal adult, so that was what she would use to cover tuition. In the end, she agreed to allow her foster parents to purchase her books and pay her food expenses each semester, but that was where she drew the invisible line. After so many years with the poor self-loathing girl, they understood her rules and followed them unwillingly. Nothing could ever make them stop regarding her as a daughter, no matter what, and they would do whatever they could for her, financially or emotionally.

//B.T.B.\\

Even though she could never harness a true, inner delight, it wasn't as though she was reclusive or alone. She had friends, but those who held that title were a special lot - the kind who accepted her private nature and didn't press for details of her past she was uncomfortable sharing. They cared for her because of who she was on the inside, not for the clubs she joined or parties she attended. She liked them and they liked her, and that was what truly mattered.

One boy came along who she let into her life and very nearly her heart. He was just so _nice_ and persistent that it was hard to not enjoy his company. He was like her in many ways. His dark eyes and red-brown skin set him apart from the other students in their high school, just as her status as the lost and introverted orphan did for her. The boy offered quiet moments when she needed, distraction without being asked to provide it, and warm hugs whenever they were together.

There was another similarity between them that allowed her to accept his friendship. His mother had passed when he was young, leaving him alone with his father. It wasn't the same, but he could empathize, in part, to how her life had been. He could never fully understand, though. Nonetheless, she allowed him to kiss her when he asked her permission, and she held his hand when he wanted. The affection warmed her, but not in the same _places_ it did for him. She really tried to be what he wanted of her, but such things cannot be forced. Their friendship remained just that until he took a scholarship to some university halfway across the country where he would be the star of the track team.

There was another boy eventually; one with blond hair that hung in his eyes and reminded her of drizzling honey and sunshine. She noticed him the first day of history class one semester at community college, and it seemed the unspoken allure was mutual. They were better suited because he too was tortured and lost. With a cigarette constantly hanging from his full lips, she couldn't help but stare.

The scars that peppered his skin like tattoos held his dark secrets inside, and they let her know that he wouldn't ask her uncomfortable questions about her past, as long as she never asked about his.

Together, they found their own sort of happiness. He had a temper that often frightened others (an unfortunate bi-product of his upbringing), but he would never hurt _her_, not after all he had seen. He could be loud and angry at times, but they both knew it wasn't her fault. She soothed him when he needed her, and he held her tightly on those occasions when her mind would slip into the darkness of her past.

She trusted him, probably more than anyone she had known since her parents. Unlike her foster parents, he wasn't there out of obligation. He chose her, and she chose him. Their trust gave way to vulnerability with one another, and through it, they took their relationship a step farther. She allowed him to explore her body, and in turn, she did the same. It made her feel special and wanted. That form of intimacy was good for her fragile heart. She was happy that he was her first.

In the end, they did not last because he was not for her and she was not for him. Though they tried, she learned once more that true love cannot be forced or willed into reality, and they both acknowledged that truth with quiet acceptance. She understood their parting, doing her best not to resent the hand of fate for putting someone in her life, only to take them away. But it was for the best because even when they smiled for one another, even though they cared and loved and filled a void for each other, it wasn't enough. Their puzzle pieces didn't fit the proper way, so she let him go, just as she had with everyone else in her life.

Weeks later, when she saw him holding the hand of a petite, ballerina-like girl, she didn't show antipathy toward either of them, for behind his shaggy blond hair, blue eyes sparkled in a way that was new and beautiful. His raspberry lips tugged upward into a smile that was genuine and screamed of eternal love, even without words.

She hurt for her own loss and a hint of jealousy, but in her heart she was happy for him. He had given her respite from the doldrums of life for many months, and they had shared scores of experiences and nice times together. A part of her had loved him, even though she never spoke those words aloud. To see him with this raven-haired girl who brought him to life made her smile in turn. Best of all, it gave her hope. She didn't know what for, exactly, but she held it tightly to her heart.

//B.T.B.\\

One January, the wind was biting cold and the sidewalks were slippery as she made her way to class. It was the first day of the new semester, and she was quite flustered after accidentally sleeping late. To add to the dramatics of her day, construction had been completed over the holiday break on a brand new building. Of course, that was where her first class was being held, and she had no idea where to go.

Rushing into the building after a surprise of only three falls on the ice (she had expected many more), her eyes darted around the lobby for some indication of where to go and how to get there. Everything was a jumbled mess in her already flustered mind. She rushed down a hall, dodging the last of the stragglers who were also headed toward their respective classes. After getting lost in the large building for what felt like the twentieth time, she whipped around, determined to burst into any arbitrary classroom and demand that someone, _anyone_ help her find her way.

Unfortunately, she would never get that far. Her hasty, careless turn caused her to smack hard into the stone-like chest of an innocent bystander. The man stumbled backwards with an, "Oomph," and she fell on her behind, her books and notebooks scattering all over the floor around her. Stunned, embarrassed, and on the verge of tears, she refused to meet the stranger's eyes. All she wanted to do was collect her things and abandon all hopes of attending class today, so she mumbled a few apologetic words and crawled around the floor on all fours to gather up each stray paper and book that had gotten away from her.

She gasped when the man placed his hands under her arms and tugged her off the ground.

"Whoa there!" he said defensively. He quickly removed his hands from her arms when she shrieked and drew in a sharp breath from the unexpected contact.

"I'm…I'm…s-sorry," she stuttered, gathering the last of her things and standing on shaky feet.

Her greatest shock came when she turned and met his eyes…his striking green eyes. They were an olive color, not the emerald brilliance of storybook heroes, but they were still bright and full of life. As she scanned his features quickly, she noticed that he was not just attractive, but devastatingly handsome.

Something about him was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"It's all right," he assured her. "Can I help you with anything?"

His tone was caring and genuine, especially for a stranger, but she couldn't focus on that. She was too entranced by the strong cut of his jaw and the charming disarray of his hair. Again, something about that struck a chord in her memory, but she could not make the connection.

She stared for longer than was polite, studying his features and trying to place him. She squinted her eyes at his hair. It was an interesting brownish-red color…not quite auburn, but too vibrant to be considered brown alone. If she imagined it just a little lighter…shorter…with an extra tinge of the reddish color….

Her heart fluttered rapidly, and her eyes returned to his facial features to make a closer examination. The cut of his cheekbones and nose were sharp and handsome, but maybe, if she thought hard about it…about the way men's faces mature…. Could it be?

"Are you all right?" he asked, snapping her out of her studies. "I'm Edward," he said carefully, holding his hand out for her to shake.

Her eyes darted to his extended arm, following the lines of toned muscles to the waiting hand. His fingers were long and slender, much like that of a…

"Do you play the piano, Edward?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh, yeah…" he replied in confusion. "Why do you ask?" He began to pull away when she did not accept his invitation for a handshake, but she quickly reached out and snatched it up in her own. The shock that ran through her body at the contact was obviously shared. They both jumped slightly and stared at one another with wide eyes.

* * *

///B~T~B\\\

* * *

What were the chances?

I had no idea what was happening, but in a matter of seconds, everything in the world as I knew it seemed to shift. There was something about this accidental (and literal) run-in that had me feeling excited, confused, and just...different. I couldn't explain it, but I had this feeling of impending change, and for the first time in years, I didn't dread it. There was really nothing I knew about this Edward fellow aside from my presumption of who he might be, but one touch of his hand filled me with something warm and wonderful that I hadn't felt since my dad was still alive.

It was hope.

I couldn't move past the intuitive nagging that something _huge_ was about to take place. Much like a falling house had been the catalyst for Dorothy's entrance into the Land of Oz, my clumsy slip had paved the way for…I wasn't sure. All I knew was the undeniable feeling in my gut. A ghost-like recall of a butterfly-filled belly and burning cheeks overtook my senses, throwing me further off guard than I already was.

"What's your name?" he asked, clearly smirking at the way I was still shaking his hand.

"Oh!" I exclaimed in surprise, releasing him from my grasp. I could feel the heat in my cheeks immediately. "Umm, it's Bella. I'm sorry for running into you. I'm such a klutz."

"It's fine," he assured me with another smile, and that was where I found my true answer. All the features seemed to match the distant memory of the young boy at the shelter, but that gorgeous smile was my confirmation. It was really _him_. After all these years, what a crazy, unexpected twist of fate!

"I should go," I said, but he grabbed my forearm gently.

His thumb was rubbing small circles on the inside of my arm, and it was driving me mad. "Please don't be embarrassed, it's not a problem at all," he insisted. "Where are you headed anyway?" His voice was so soft and soothing, and I had absolutely no idea why a stranger would be acting so kind, so...familiar with me. I pulled away from him abruptly, shaken by how confusing this whole situation had become.

"I'm sorry," I replied. "I need to find my classroom."

"These classes started ten minutes ago. You're really late."

"I know," I sighed. "I can't seem to find anything around here."

"Then why don't you let me help you?"

I was completely and utterly overwhelmed by everything that had happened since I woke up that day, so I gave in to his offer. "Yeah, sure…. Do you know where this class is?" I asked, pointing at the syllabus I had printed from the professor's website the night before.

"Sure," he said with another unrelenting smile, touching my back once before dropping his hand to his side and guiding me to where I needed to be.

//B.T.B.\\

To my surprise, Edward, as I now knew was his name, was waiting for me after class. He insisted that I let him buy me a cup of tea to calm my nerves on this frustrating day and proceeded to escort me to a nearby coffee shop. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have done something like that with a stranger, but I was still completely dumbstruck by the realization of who he was, and I couldn't bear the thought of letting him get away from me again. I was shocked when he eventually apologized and said he needed to get to his afternoon class; we had been sitting together talking for nearly three hours and I hadn't even noticed all the time that had passed.

When I stepped back from the bubble I'd been in with Edward, I realized how comfortable I had felt with him. While I was normally a bit reserved and unsure with new people, he made me feel at ease. The conversation flowed between us as we discussed our studies and interests, but it was only after he left that it dawned on me we had not exchanged any personal information. In all honesty, that was a relief. Discussing my family and home life was not something I enjoyed, so skirting around those topics was pretty normal for me. The difference was that I wasn't _trying_ to hide anything from Edward. If he had asked about my family, I probably would have told him, but he didn't. We had so many other things to talk about that it never even crossed my mind.

I realized that I too had an afternoon class – and that I hadn't eaten any lunch – so I purchased a muffin from the coffee shop and proceeded to my last two classes of the day.

My mind was plagued by thoughts of Edward for the next two days, not because of his good looks and charm, but from the wonder I felt at having encountered him again after so many years. I wondered what had happened to him and his family since I hadn't seen them back at the shelter after that first Christmas.

I was once again surprised when I saw Edward waiting for me the next time I had that particular class he had helped me find. This time we went to a diner where we could actually eat some lunch, and when the time for our afternoon classes came, we walked back to campus together.

It became a routine for us. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Edward would be out in the hall when I finished class. We would have lunch together and talk for hours. Some days we were quiet and we would sit in our regular booth at the diner and do our class work. We didn't have any of the same classes, but we would still chat about our work or read to each other from essays we'd been assigned to ensure that they sounded good. In all honesty, Edward carried most of our conversations, speaking animatedly about music, current events, or anything else that was on his mind. I loved listening to his voice, noticing the fluctuations when he was really passionate about something or the way his hands moved in punctuating gestures. I was as drawn to him now as I had been that first night at the shelter, and there was no doubt in my mind that he captivated others the same way he did me.

Our regular waitress, Angela, knew us both by name and could usually predict what we would each order before we did. She learned to expect us on our usual days and would save our table as long as there wasn't a lunch rush before we arrived. As soon as we would walk in, she'd greet us and gesture toward our booth where our drinks waited - coffee for Edward and unsweetened iced tea for me. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt comforted by the routine, the companionship, and the familiar faces. It was nice going there, but even more special doing so with Edward several times a week. This was simply friendship – true, genuine, inexplicable friendship. I didn't know what motivated Edward to continue the pattern, but I was secretly grateful to have someone as easygoing and positive in my life. What we shared felt authentic, and I never thought he was there out of obligation. Not to mention that his consistently upbeat view of the world seemed to be improving my outlook as well.

My moments of happiness extended beyond our little lunches together. He made me feel rejuvenated and gave me the perspective to see the world in a new light. It always amazed me that when we were discussing any particular subject - jazz music, for instance - he could completely change my mind about it by the end of the conversation. His colorful descriptions of the feeling behind the music, the talent of the musicians, and the beauty of songs that generally did not include vocals made me a believer. Whatever he spoke of, he did so with enthusiasm and authenticity; I often found myself taking an interest in new things after one of his rousing debates for or against something. In his own unique way, he could make even the dullest subject fascinating. After so long, it was a little daunting to think this way, but he was really bringing me back to life.

There was no doubt in my mind that I was attracted to Edward – intensely so – but things just weren't _that way_ between us. At least not for him. Sometimes, when we were quietly studying, I would look up and find him watching me. Instead of darting his eyes away uneasily at being caught (which I would have done in that position), he would simply give me one of those heart-melting half smiles and return to whatever it was he had been doing. In return, I would allow my hair to fall like a veil over my face, guarding me from his scrutiny as I did my homework. But that was it. It wasn't like a dating relationship where there were expectations and unspoken desires. There were looks and small, friendly touches, but it was never anything more. I couldn't help but wonder why he never sought more from me when we spent so much time together, but then again, our time was limited to three afternoons a week. There was so much time in the week that he was probably spending with other people; perhaps even another girl.

I tried to hide my disappointment in that thought. Then again, Edward never spoke of a girlfriend, but some people were private that way. And how he smiled at me...it made me want to believe there was potential for something else between us. Still, he didn't make a move. We never met outside of school and the diner, and our conversations never suggested that we could have something more. It was probably for the best, though. If he ever found out that I remembered him from so many years ago, when we were just adolescent kids, he would probably think I was crazy, and possibly a stalker.

I accepted our relationship as "just friends" and focused on appreciating that. It was easy to do that much. The difficult part was resisting the urge to stare too long (or catching myself when I did it subconsciously). Anyone could see that he was strikingly handsome and effortlessly charismatic, but what I felt for him went beyond that. It was in the way he said my name or made goofy little doodles in the margin of my notebook to make me laugh. Everything about him drew me in, but the last thing I wanted was to scare him off because his friendship truly did mean the world to me. We could talk about practically anything, and I felt as though he was open with me in the same manner. There was no way I could risk losing him if he didn't share my feelings, so I never pushed our boundaries, and I contented myself with what we did have because at least that meant spending time with him every week. If he needed me to be his friend and nothing more, it was what I would be.

As finals approached, Edward started to get a little antsy...a little weird. He was quieter than usual, which was completely out of character for him, and he hardly smiled. He didn't even laugh at my lame jokes, which really concerned me since he had always had fun with those. Even Angela noticed.

"What's his problem?" she asked one day when he was in the restroom.

I shrugged my shoulders and looked up from my notebook at her. "Not sure. It's probably just nerves with exams coming up, you know?"

She grinned at in me in a strange sort of way that didn't suit our conversation at all, but I was too distracted by my work to over think whatever that was about.

"Maybe," she said simply, refilling our drinks and walking back to the kitchen.

The next time Edward and I met was a week before final exams, and he hardly ate his lunch. His behavior was unnerving, and I found myself unable to focus. He fidgeted on his side of the booth and huffed in frustration. This caused me to constantly peek up at him, and as a consequence, have to read the same information I was studying repeatedly. Because he couldn't seem to do his work, neither could I; he was far too distracting. Finally, I couldn't take any more, especially if I wanted to get anything done. It was important for me to take care of at least some of my work during these afternoons since I worked four nights a week.

"Edward, is there something you need to talk about?"

"What? Why would you say that?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically ill at ease. I watched as he shifted in his seat, not quite meeting my eyes as we spoke. That was definitely strange, too.

"I don't know. I just feel like something's wrong."

"You do? It's just that...I don't know. My mind is sort of all over the place lately." He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. He locked his eyes with mine suddenly, his gaze so intense that it felt like he was silently telling me something more than his words communicated. "Umm, what are your plans for the summer, Bella? Are you taking any classes?"

"No," I answered, shaking my head. "I have to work in the summer. Pretty much full time. I can only get in a few nights a week during the semester, so the summer is my catch up time to save some money to cover my expenses. I also do some volunteer work when I can. It's sort of...special to me."

"Oh," he replied thoughtfully, but there was _still _something else in his eyes I couldn't interpret. The brightness had gone out of them a bit. My gut twisted uncomfortably. "I guess we won't get to see each other then."

"I..." I began, but I didn't have an appropriate response. For one thing, this was not the infectiously joyful Edward I had come to know, and for another, I didn't know how to handle the insinuation that he _did _possibly want to see me over the summer break. Then again, he had made it sound like we could only spend time together if I was taking classes, and if that was the case, it was pretty clear to me that he didn't see me the way I saw him.

Glancing at my watch to try and break the strange tension that had developed, I realized that it was time for us to go. If there was something else that Edward wanted to say, he didn't. We walked back to campus together, chatting idly about our other classes, but not addressing summer plans or the awkward moment in the diner.

Just as we were about to part to go to our respective class buildings, Edward did something new. He pulled me into a warm hug, wrapping his arms all the way around me and holding my body against his for several seconds. We had shared side hugs and other friendly gestures in the past few months, but this was different. Then, it was over, and we were both on our way to class.

I was unable to fully concentrate for the rest of the day. My mind raced with worry over the weird conversation in the diner and the tingling hug Edward had given me out on the sidewalk. I wanted to know what was really going through his head, and more than that, I wanted to feel his embrace again.

It was Friday, and my weekend went by on autopilot. Sunday night, after having spent most of the weekend working and studying, I went to my foster parents' house for dinner. While I was there, I decided to check my email, hoping to find a response from one of my professors about the study guide she had given us. A few new emails appeared, but the one that caught my attention was labeled from Edward Masen. My heart jolted at the sight of his name, and I nervously clicked it open, completely unsure what he would have to say. We had never corresponded this way before.

_To: Bella Swan  
__From: Edward Masen  
Subject: So much on my mind..._

_Bella,_

_First, let me apologize for behaving so out of sorts on Friday. I didn't mean to make things weird. The truth is, I'm taking a couple summer courses, and then I'm transferring out to the university beginning with the fall semester. I was hoping we would be able to continue our study sessions, but I guess not. I'll miss them. And you._

_Anyway, it's probably for the best. I hope you'll still want to study for finals with me._

_Fondly,  
Edward_

I sat in stunned silence, reading and rereading his message and allowing the implication of his words to sink into my mind. This was it. There was one more week of school and then Edward would be out of my life. Honestly, I didn't know what I had expected, but it was becoming obvious that some part of me had hoped for our friendship to continue. Now it seemed we wouldn't have that chance.

His message was brief, and it left me unsettled. On one hand, he said he would miss me, yet he didn't make any suggestions about trying to see each other outside the school setting. Sure, it would be challenging with our conflicting schedules, but it wouldn't be impossible. He also said it was probably for the best, which I had to admit was understandable. If he was going to be an hour away come September, it might be easier for me to walk away from all this sooner than later. Very little made sense to me, and as that confusion mixed with my budding heartache, I resigned myself to simply accept the circumstances. I had thought there could be something more there between Edward and me, but apparently I was wrong.

Knowing how much it would hurt to see Edward again only to be forced to say goodbye for good, I wrote him back with an excuse about studying with a group from one of my classes. I wished him luck at the university and hit _Send_ before I could change my mind. I forced myself not to cry.

//B.T.B.\\

The summer months dragged as I worked as many hours as my manager would give me. It was just a retail job at a clothing store in the mall, but it was steady income, and it helped me refrain from taking my foster parents' money. They still invited me "home" for Sunday dinners and practically begged me to move back in with them to save on rent, but I didn't feel right about it. I was grateful to them for their love, but I was an adult now. I also didn't want them to see me slipping back into my old, morose ways.

The hope and happiness I had felt upon meeting Edward and getting to know him was fading little by little. I had truly believed that life brought us back together for some reason after first seeing him when we were just adolescents, but apparently I was wrong about that. Without his light in my life, it was so much easier to fall back into my down moods, longing for my parents and feeling the bitterness of my loss resurfacing. It wasn't a pain that ever left me, but Edward really had made it better in a way no one else had been able to.

So many times, I considered going to the diner, even just to sit and drink a glass of iced tea or say hello to the familiar faces. I couldn't bring myself to do it, though. It would make me remember Edward when what I needed was the complete opposite. Moving on and forgetting about him was my only choice, and the sooner I accepted that, the better.

When school started again, I missed him even more, and my struggle to push him to the back of my mind increased. When I would go to class in the building where we had met, I'd find myself looking around each corner for him, even when I knew he would never be there. I avoided certain routes around campus whenever possible because they were paths I used to take with Edward. It made me feel pathetic and silly, so I volunteered at the shelter whenever I could to keep my mind occupied, and I even joined a couple clubs to meet some new people.

There were times when everything was okay, but there were also weak moments. I even considered emailing Edward once, but I realized he would no longer have an account at the community college, and that was the only address I had for him. We had exchanged phone numbers shortly after we met, but they had never been used since all our meetings were between classes. When I considered that _he_ could have contacted me but didn't, it was a little easier to resist reaching out to him. For all I knew, he was having the time of his life at the university anyway. I was probably just a speck of dust in the corner of his memory.

The semester came and went, and altogether, it wasn't terrible, but I still felt like something was missing...like part of my _heart_ was gone. My attitude was creeping back to the place it had been a year ago, and I knew I didn't want to be that way, yet I couldn't seem to prevent it. I heavy-heartedly accepted that I would always be the sad girl who couldn't forget or move past the loss of her family.

Christmastime arrived, and as always, I went to the shelter on Christmas Eve. The small staff greeted me with smiles and hugs, thanking me for being there another year. A couple of them knew my real reason for joining them on this holiday, and they offered condolences, as they knew I would be remembering and honoring my parents and my tradition with my father on this night. They had been there my first Christmas and had watched me return year after year, so they learned the significance of this night to me. Giving of myself to others who were much less fortunate than myself, I felt the presence of my dad's love surround me. However, when a gray-haired woman took a seat at the old, slightly off-key piano and began to lead carols, my heart seized and unwelcome tears slid from the corners of my eyes.

I missed Edward.

I had fought that feeling for half the year, and still, the truth came to me so clearly. He had to have been more to me than just a "friend for a season" or I wouldn't have felt that way. Still, there was nothing I could do to change our circumstances or what had transpired between us. If he had wanted to remain friends, wouldn't he have said so or called me at some point? I obviously hadn't meant as much to him as he did to me if he could let me go so easily. It hurt to accept that, but I knew it would hurt more if I tried to contact him and had to feel the sting of his rejection. Unfortunately, I couldn't help what was in my heart, and that was a longing for his friendship that had not diminished.

Silently, I finished cleaning up from the Christmas Eve meal and setting up what I could for the needy folks who would be there tomorrow. I said goodbye and exchanged holiday sentiments with everyone before escaping to the refuge and solitude of my car.

Rain poured in icy sheets that night, guaranteeing that there would be no white Christmas in the city. Since my foster family didn't expect me until Christmas morning, and I didn't really want to go back to my empty apartment either, I made an impulsive decision. I drove to the diner, a place I hadn't been in months, to say Merry Christmas to Angela. A selfish part of me wanted to just _be_ there to remember Edward a little, too.

My car kicked back and made a strange popping sound as I pulled into the parking lot, and as I peered through the heavy downpour, I realized that the diner was dark and every parking space was empty. I ran up to the door anyway, my clothes dampening, and saw a Christmas note stating that they had closed early for the holiday and would be open for dinner the next night. Disappointed, I returned to my car, only to find that it wouldn't start. I tried and tried to get my old clunker to do something, but it merely grinded and gurgled at me in response. I popped the hood and examined the dirty old parts and pieces that made my car go (or not go, in this case), but I really had no idea what I was doing. Maybe an irritated, helpless part of me thought that staring at them would suddenly give me mechanical know how or miraculously fix whatever the problem was. Of course, that was not the case, and the only thing my examination did was soak me to the bone with freezing cold rain water. Foolishly, I had worn a down jacket tonight instead of my usual rain resistant, heavier coat.

Already a basket case and a drowned rat, I slammed the hood closed and collapsed against the driver's side door, not bothering to get in. I sobbed helplessly, letting all my frustrations, bitterness, and longing pour out through my tears. Everything that this day made me feel - memories of my father, longing for my mother, pining for Edward - had sent me over the edge, and I needed to purge all those emotions from my system. I had no choice but to call my foster parents for help, but I wanted to get through this breakdown first.

Suddenly, headlights flashed across the side of my car, alarming me. I straightened up and turned as I heard the vehicle idle beside me and a door open and shut.

"Hey, are you all right?" the voice called out through the sounds of pounding rain. The person's head was covered by a hood, but they were obviously tall and male. If my mind had been in a better place, I probably would have had the sense to be frightened by a stranger approaching me in an empty parking lot, but I was completely senseless thanks to my ordeal. He came closer, clearly offering his help, and I gasped when I recognized the slightly shielded face.

"Edward?" I responded, pushing wet hair off my face.

"Bella! What are you doing out here? Are you okay?"

"My car broke down. I just came to see Angela, but they're closed."

"I was coming to do the same thing," he admitted, nearly shouting so I could hear him. "Come on, get in my car. I can give you a ride home."

Slightly in shock of seeing him after all these months and having no other option anyway, I allowed him to open the passenger side door for me. He ran around the back, stopping to pull something from the trunk before ducking back into his seat. I was huddled against the door, wrapping an arm around myself for any warmth I could muster and fiddling to turn up the heat. I startled at his closeness when Edward passed a blanket to me, gesturing for me to unfold it and cover myself. I took it gratefully, my fingers stiff and my body trembling violently.

"God, you're freezing!" he said. "Your lips are practically blue, Bella. Where do you live?"

I stuttered out directions to my apartment, and he immediately began driving. We didn't say much during the drive because my teeth were chattering too hard and Edward was leaning over the steering wheel to see the road ahead. My eyes were glued to him, soaking in his presence and how gorgeous he looked, even soaking wet, because a foreboding part of me feared this would be my only chance. Hell, I was still trying to convince myself that he was real and not some figment of my imagination after my emotionally exhausting day and the ordeal with my car. When we finally pulled into a parking space, we jumped out of the car, and he grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the entrance. I didn't object as he followed me inside, practically holding me up on my wobbly legs.

"Bella, where's your bathroom?" he asked urgently. "We need to get you in the shower before you go into shock or something."

Once more, I was incapable of making any objection, but his directions felt fuzzy and confusing. I was so, so cold, and my thoughts were not altogether clear at the moment. Clutching the blanket he had draped around me, my body shook uncontrollably. I mentally scolded myself for being so stupid and standing out in the rain like that, but it was too late now. Before I could grasp what was happening, Edward discarded my blanket and coat and lifted me into the tub. The hot water pierced my skin, stinging the bare flesh of my hands and face, and soaking through my clothes. My legs gave out from the extreme change in temperature, but Edward was there instantly, holding me up and stepping into the bathtub with me to keep me on my feet.

"T-t-turn it down," I whimpered, which he understood immediately, lowering the temperature and then gradually increasing it as my body grew accustomed to the warmth.

No words were exchanged as he held me under the steady stream of hot water, and slowly, my body ceased shaking, and the harsh cold left me. As I calmed, the fog that had been clouding my mind lifted as well. I was struck with the reality that Edward was truly here with me, holding me protectively in his arms and relaxing me after my trauma. It was so strange and exciting all at once; I never wanted to leave this moment. I looked up when I felt Edward's hands brushing over my hair repeatedly, and I saw that he was staring at me with the most intense, shocking look in his eyes. There was so much there: concern, caring...desire? My knees buckled in response, but he was there to catch me.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked gently, steadying me for what felt like the hundredth time.

I nodded, reaching up without thinking to stroke his cheek. "Thank you," I whispered for a lack of anything better to say in that moment.

I was surprised when he let go of me, but I realized that he was bending down to untie and remove his boots and socks. I did the same with my shoes, kicking them toward the back of the tub.

"Better?" he asked, and I nodded once more. I looked at his hands, wanting them on me again, craving his touch. I had just admitted to myself how much I missed him, and like some miracle, he was there to rescue me tonight. I wasn't willing to let him go again so easily. Even if he didn't feel the way I did, I just needed some time. Anything I could get would have to suffice.

Carefully, he reached around me toward the knobs, presumably to turn off the water, but I grabbed his wrist and halted his attempt. Whispering his name, I brought his hands to my cheeks and moved mine to the back of his neck. I pulled him toward me until our faces were inches apart, exhaling and steeling myself for what I was about to do. What I _had_ to do.

"I've missed you," I said, looking into his eyes to show him just how deep and true those words were, and with that, I kissed him. Instantly, his grip tightened on my cheeks, pulling us closer and deepening our connection in a way that was soft and firm all at once. Lips parted and tentative tongues melted into a harmonious union of want and need. His breathy, quiet moan reassured me, and my fingers combed through his hair. It was the affirmation I had craved, and his willing, positive response to my affection intensified everything I was feeling exponentially.

After a minute, I pulled back, still gazing into those lovely olive green eyes that seemed to have gained back their brightness, and I began to undress. I pulled the heavy sweater off first, tossing it onto our shoes, and carefully unbuttoned the dress shirt I wore beneath it. Standing before Edward in a blue bra, darkened by the water, and a tan pair of pants, I grinned when he unzipped his sweatshirt and gave me one of his crooked grins. It seemed shyer than I had ever seen from him, but it was no less captivating or beautiful.

We undressed carefully, peeling away the fabric that clung to our skin until we were both left in our underwear and nothing else. Even then, the water gave us both away, and we were exposed, body and soul.

"You're so amazing. So gorgeous," Edward chanted, working his lips along my neck as his hands smoothed over my back, eventually unclasping my bra and adding it to the large, soggy pile behind him. His hands moved around my body, covering my breasts easily with his elegant, long fingers, and I arched into his touch. My body felt on fire as the sparks we had both felt the first time our hands touched returned to us.

I explored his slick skin, tickling my fingers over the ridges of defined, lean muscles. He was perfect in every way, and while that probably would have intimidated me with anyone else, I felt at ease and emboldened with Edward. My fingertips tucked under the waistband of his boxers, just below the dimples in this back, and I skimmed them around to the front. They met in the middle at the line of hair below his navel, and I traced them back to his smooth hip bones. Wrapping my fingers around the material, I pulled them down, turning my face to capture his lips again.

He jumped slightly when I touched him, but soon after, he removed my panties as well, slipping his hand between my legs to feel my desire for him.

"Edward, please," I said simply, stroking him slowly. Understanding my request, he turned my body toward the shower wall, pinning me back and kissing me deeply.

"You're sure?" he asked, his eyes imploring me for truth and honesty.

"Yes...yes..." I told him, taking his hands and guiding them to my backside.

Preparing to lift me off my feet, he studied my face and pushed his strong body onto mine. It was hot and wet and wonderful, and I wanted all of him. I gripped his shoulders and jumped up as he hoisted me. With my legs around his waist, he held himself to me.

"Is this okay?"

I smiled, urging him to continue. "Yes, Edward," I assured him. I hadn't been with anyone since Jasper, and as for Edward, I trusted him. It may have been months since we had seen each other or talked, but I knew from the way he helped me tonight that I could put my complete faith in him.

With my permission, he slid inside me with ease, stretching my body in the most gratifying way and holding still for a moment as we both adjusted to the sensation. I gasped loudly in pleasure, and Edward called my name, his head falling to my shoulder.

Carefully, he steadied himself and began rolling his hips and moving within me. My grip tightened around his shoulders, and I rocked myself in time with his thrusts, giving and taking together. He was so surprisingly strong, holding and moving me with ease, allowing my hands to travel down his arms and feel the way his muscles constricted and held me securely. With our chests pressed together, I luxuriated in more of him and relished the friction that tightened my nipples against his skin.

More than all the physical pleasure, though, was the way my heart expanded, growing out of my chest and enveloping us in this cocoon of unspoken emotion. I knew, I just _knew_ that there must have been something between us before that Edward never told me. There was absolutely no way it could be this intense, this good, if he didn't feel the draw to me that I did to him.

As if he could hear my thoughts and understand my need for confirmation, he spoke to me in choppy, breathy phrases. "My beautiful Bella... I've wanted this...so long. I'm sorry for leaving."

"Me too," I answered, scratching at his hair and down his neck as he drove me closer to my climax. He hit a perfect angle, and I begged him to stay there.

His thrusts quickened, and his hips moved in hard jerks to give me what I needed. With a few more insistent strikes of the right place, my arms and legs tightened around him, and I held on for dear life as I was overcome with ecstasy. He shifted once more, moving in steadier but still fast strokes, and after a couple more minutes, he crushed me into the wall, forcing the air out of my lungs as his whole body shuddered. I lowered my legs to the floor with his assistance, and he stepped back enough for me to breathe. Tenderly, we kissed and caressed until our bodies calmed and our pulses no longer raced.

The water was beginning to cool, so we helped each other wash quickly and stepped out into the steamy bathroom to retrieve a few towels. Not wanting to sever our connection or lose this moment, I guided him to my bedroom, and we crawled under the covers, snuggling into a warm embrace.

"I don't even know what to think right now," he said in slight bewilderment, smiling at me.

"I know," I agreed. "I just.... This is so crazy."

He was silent for a moment, closing his eyes and shutting himself off from me, but when they reopened, I saw determination. "Bella, I know we have a lot to talk about, but please understand that I don't want to just disappear again. I mean, I don't know what you want from me, but I'm tired of trying to stay away."

"Don't," I whispered, tracing his lips with my fingertip. "I don't want you to stay away. Edward, you have no idea how much I've thought about you, how many times I've wanted to call."

"I'm so sorry. It was the same way for me. I thought it would be better. I thought it would be less complicated than telling you how I felt and trying to make something work when I was away, but I was wrong. And when you didn't want to study for finals, I just figured…."

His words drifted off and I took his hand, encouraging him to continue. His next confession sucked the breath right out of me.

"I've always wanted you, Bella - from the moment I met you - but I was so afraid of screwing it up."

My heart swelled with something thick and overwhelming. Was it love? I didn't really know for sure, but that's what it felt like, even if I couldn't verbalize those thoughts to him yet. But to hear Edward admit that all the things I thought I saw back then were real and true, I was overjoyed. Even though he had tried to deny them, I understood why.

"We know better now, don't we?" I said. My tone was slightly joking, yet my words were completely honest.

"I've always known," he said seriously, turning our bodies so that our eyes were locked. "From the moment you bumped into me and I recognized those eyes. Something brought you back to me. I should have accepted it months ago instead of hurting us both. I guess tonight just proves that you can't run from fate."

"Recognize me? Edward, what do you mean?" I asked, my old butterfly friends making an appearance in my belly after so many years. Could he possibly mean what I thought he did? I just couldn't fathom that he would know me from the shelter when we were kids. I had watched him, stared at him, but I thought I'd been invisible that night – just a mousy, sad girl cleaning tables and sweeping the floor.

He smiled that devastatingly handsome way that hadn't changed in all these years and laughed lightly at me. "You were there at the shelter. When we were kids. How could I forget the most beautiful girl I had ever seen? How could I forget your eyes...the way you bite your lip when you're nervous...the gorgeous pink on these cheeks?"

Dumbfounded and embarrassed, I hid my face in my hands, but Edward pulled them away.

"Don't hide from me, please."

"I thought it was just me," I said quietly. "I never believed that you could remember me. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why didn't _you_?" he asked. It was obviously rhetorical. Our answers would probably have been the same.

After a few moments, he leaned forward, kissing me lightly. "I don't understand all this, Bella, but I don't want to deny it anymore. It might not be easy to be apart, but I want this. If you'll have me, I want you. All of you."

I nodded vigorously, biting my lip until I realized what I was doing. "But I'm scared."

He pulled me closer, and I curled into his body and closed my eyes. With my cheek pressed to his bare chest and his arms holding me in a silent promise to safeguard both my body and my heart, I knew that I was no longer alone.

"You don't have to be, Bella. I'm here."

* * *

**E/N: Thank you so much for reading. Please visit www(dot)thefandomgivesback(dot)com for information on the upcoming auction. **

**Before I wrote this story, socact gave me a few song prompts to inspire me. The lyrics and literal meanings may not directly apply, but I tried to use the tone I felt from them while I was forming this story & the characters.**

**1. Closer to Love by Mat Kearney  
2. Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead  
3. Just Say Yes by Snow Patrol  
4. Eyes as Candles by Passion Pit  
5. Mr. Brightside by The Killers**

**I encourage you to read socact's stories, especially **_**Forgiven**_**, which was the For the Love of Jasper contest winner & one of my FGB auction bids!****  
**


End file.
